The Walls Which Hold Me
by Naught
Summary: I just want to escape the walls which hold me, not letting me breath freely, killing me slowly. I just want to live a normal life, or I don't want to live at all. I just want to be free.


_Ok, here is my second attempt at writing fanfiction. This one's rater depressing, so as a warning, don't read it if you don't like sad stuff. The little poem-like thing at the end was written by me on a whim. I'm not a poet and I know it (bad, bad pun). So everything in this story belongs to J.K. I'm but a unpaid writer wallowing the the shallows of the ocean ofgreatliterature. Please R and R, I like heading wat you think of my writings, it's rather depressing not to hear a peep from any one like I did from my other story._

* * *

There was the wall, the same wall I have been looking at for a week now. I lost all feeling to my legs from my curled up fetal position. My neck ached, but my heart hurt more. I laughed and I laughed, and I laughed. I cried and I laughed. The whole world was going to hell and I was driving the bus. Damn the world. 

My throat is raw and sore, but I'm still laughing. My relatives left six days ago when they found me laughing. They thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. It's all in your perspective I guess. I mean are you crazy if you hear voices telling you to kill your grandmother, or are you crazy if you actually go through with it. If you go insane from grief, could there be a return to the normal plane of life, to become uninsane. That's funny because uninsane isn't even a word. Could that be a side effect of being crazy, making up words. If it is, then I find it very amusing.

In my opinion life is all but a chance to live. So far I haven't gotten to live, so am I doomed never to have a life, but to have a half-life, a mere shadow of a real person's life? I do mean, after all, I'm only a weapon. I'm only an old man's weak attempt at winning a war that is already lost. I feel cold, probably since it's nighttime now, though it could have only been dawn a few minutes ago. I guess time passes differently when you're insane.

My face was dry from all the dried tears, but I didn't wash them away. The stinging salt reminded me of how badly my life is messed up. The thought of never hearing his bark-like laugh was like a lash with a horse whip on a sunburned back. The reality that I'd never see him again was enough to drive me even deeper into the shell I have created to escape the world.

My life is shattering into pieces like the mirror I punched when I first walked into my room after I was returned to my summer hell. The little pieces distorting my reflection, like the little pieces of my life which distorted the truth. The truth that I have come to find that is that everyone I love is going to die and there is nothing I can do about it. I'm not a hero, I'm not a savior, hell, I can't even do my own wash let alone look after a whole world of witches and wizards.

The world is fading to black and there is nothing I can do. The lights are growing dim and my world-weary body and mind are more than ready to accept their fate, anything to end this unending hell. The cold is spreading, I can't remember the last time I was warm, I think it was the last time I heard his voice, that gruff mutt-like voice which was always filled with laughter and joy whenever he looked at me. I was his pup and he was my Alpha. My father-figure. My last hold on reality.

As I watched him fall behind that godamn veil, my fragile hold on sanity was ripped away from me. I'm leaving this place and it's for the better. The cold wind blows angrily inside my head, attempting to freeze my thoughts. Of course it could be the wind blowing through the window in my room. The window I threw a chair against the day I got back from school. There are still glass shards imbedded in my arm.

I'm a tragic lost cause, a sad excuse for a human being. A failure at life. I mean, if I can't stop my godfather from falling to his death through some fucking veil of death or something, then I sure as hell can't stop a mad-man out for my blood, can I? All I can hope for is that my parents aren't too angry at me for giving up. I hope mum isn't sad that she gave up her wonderful life which she used to help so many people, to only prolong my suffering in this pitiful dieing world.

I hope Sirius doesn't hate me for giving up, or for me leading him to his death. I screwed up as usual and I'm sorry but he isn't here to apologize to any more, and that's my fault. In this realm of sadness, I am but a toy of a greater power, I hope they can understand my sorrow. My pain. My failures. I'm a failure at everything, love, life, and happiness. I had something good, a godfather who loved me, and I blew it. It's entirely my fault and I deserve to suffer in the fiery pits of hell for it.

My dad, I never met him, I barely remember the man, but I know he loved me. He gave up his life, his wonderful friends, his love of his life, his wonderful job, just to give me a chance. A chance I didn't deserve because I failed him. I failed everyone. I failed myself, Dumbledore, all the little children out there who are dead because of me, my friends, my parents, Sirius, Remus, everyone.

* * *

This life is over, so let me be.

Don't bother me when I'm finally going to be free.

The light is close, I can almost touch it.

Warmth spreads through me.

The walls which hold me aren't there anymore.

The sky is brilliant in all its color.

The pain is gone.

Darkness forgotten.

Only the light I see keeps me going.

I'm so tired but I can't stop now.

I need to see my mum and dad.

Sirius is waiting, I can hear his laughter.

They are calling for me.

The walls are gone.

Let me leave.

Let me be free.

I just want to go home.

Away from here.

To live again.

With the people who care.

My family.

Don't leave me.

The light is gone.

Laughter forgotten.

I am awake.

All white meets me.

Am I dead?

"Hello Harry."

Dumbledore's voice.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

There are the walls.

My captured soul cries out in anguish.

No more will I be free.

My nightmare continues for another day.

Don't bother to pray.

One day it will end.

My walls will crumble.

Until then I live my half-life.

Within the walls which hold me.

* * *

_Here we go, all done. A very depressing piece if I may say so myself. Please review, I will always accept criticism good or bad. As long as it's not a long and pointless flame telling me I suck at life, then I'll be happy._


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